The Chair
by rockstar1235456
Summary: Harry's in someone's chair... SLASH!


Oh, man.  Oh, man.  Someone shoot me before I write this… 

Cookies to anyone who knows where the idea for this comes from (the title just happens to be a dead giveaway, but hey…)

Summary:  Harry's had a bad day, and now he's in someone's chair.  A very intoxicated someone.  Why are they drinking?  I don't know.  They just are, because… drinking is fun.  Or something.  That's about it, really.

Warnings:  Slash, and the song may get stuck in your head if you know what it is…I'm really ripping this whole thing off, line by line.  Can you tell I can't believe I'm really going to write this?  Oh, yeah, and this looks deceptively long—I'm putting the lyrics at the end so _everyone can get it in their heads.  _

Pairings:  Why should I give it away?

@}-----

"Well, excuse me, but I think you've got my chair…"

@}-----

The Chair

            Harry had just survived a really shitty day.  In fact, shitty wasn't even the proper word for it, he needed something stronger, but fucking shitty just sounded lame, and his head was pounding from an evil headache and he didn't want to make it even worse by concentrating too hard on something meaningless, like synonyms for the word shitty.  The whole day had started off on the wrong foot—Potions at 9:00.  Snape was particularly vindictive, and handed out five detentions in the first ten minutes, three of which were somehow Harry's.  

            After Transfiguration and Divination passed by peacefully, he'd thought that maybe the day wasn't going to be that bad after all… and then there was the Quidditch game.  He had been concentrating so hard to beat Cho to the snitch that he hadn't realized that Gryffindor was 170 points behind Ravenclaw.  Oops.  It was safe to say that he wasn't exactly welcome around Gryffindor tower right now, so he'd sneaked off to Hogsmeade for some time alone.  

            So now, here he was, drowning his shitty day in some nice, warm butterbeer when he heard _it.  That drawling, sneering voice that made his skin crawl in ways that he really didn't feel like thinking about.  Of course, it was only a fitting conclusion to this horrible day._

            "Hey, Potter, you're sitting in my chair!"  The last thing Harry wanted to deal with tonight was a drunken Malfoy wanting to fight over a damned chair, so he moved over a seat to avoid conflict.  

            "There.  Now leave me alone," he snapped.  Malfoy looked taken aback, and he wavered a bit on his feet before sliding into what was apparently "his" seat.  

            "Now, now, Potter.  Getting trashed after a distressing day of classes?  What would Rita Skeeter say about that if she found out about this?"  

            Harry downed the rest of his butterbeer in one swig, and stared morosely at the table, where the wood grain was beginning to blur a bit.  He had lost his peaceful, isolated table to an unwelcome Malfoy invasion, and the pub was too crowded to find another place to be alone.  "Okay, Malfoy, I'll make a deal with you," Harry said, "You leave me alone, I'll leave you alone, and then we won't start a brawl and we won't have to pay for repairs for the whole pub.  Deal?"

            "I have a better idea, Harry."  Malfoy's speech was beginning to slur a bit, Harry noticed.  "We'll just call a truce.  I'll even drink you a buy.  Whatever you want."

            Harry blinked.  "Drink me a buy, Malfoy?  Maybe you should be cut off for the night."

            "You know what I mean," he said.  "And it's Draco, since we have a truce going on.  Now do you want another butterbeer, smartass?"

            "Why not.  Might as well start tomorrow with a raging hangover and see if it can be worse than today was," Harry said.  

            "Now we're talking!"  Draco flagged down the waiter and ordered two butterbeers, then turned back to Harry.

            "Stunning performance on the pitch today, Potter.  I couldn't have done it any better myself, you know," Draco said, smirking.

            "I thought we had a truce, _Malfoy.  Besides, at least I can catch the bloody Snitch."_

            "Hey, I meant it as a compliment.  It's not your fault the rest of your team can't do their jobs!"  Harry wasn't sure if Draco was blushing or just flushed from being completely wasted, because the blond decided to take another swig of butterbeer and then scan the room.  "So… who are you waiting for?" he asked slyly.  "Is Chang coming to repay the favor of letting her team win?"  There was a look in Draco's eye that almost appeared to be jealousy, but Harry figured he was just drunk.

            "Actually, I came here to be alone," he said, "but I guess that didn't work out."  He gave Draco a pointed glare as he said this.

            "Hey, me too.  I had a rough day, you know.  This rain makes my hair all… nasty.  Oh," he said, glancing at Harry's perpetually messy hair, "never mind.  I forgot you don't own any hair care supplies."

            Harry chose to ignore the obvious taunt, and changed the subject quickly.  "Do you know what band is playing?"

            "Planning on sticking around then?  We can scare people and dance together.  Well, you can scare people and dance, anyway.  If you promise not to step on me, I _might_ dance with you."   Draco smirked as well as he could, but the drunken grin that had been plastered onto his face just wouldn't allow it.

            "I never said anything about dancing, especially not with you.  Besides, I like this song and don't want to think of you every time I hear it, which I would, if we danced together."  Harry was nearing his breaking point, truce or no truce.

            "You know, Harry, I'm only trying to be nice.  And, you know what?  We do have some things in common.  It's not like we're complete opposites, like you make it out to be."

            "Like what, Malfoy?  We're both students at Hogwarts?"

            "We both like Quidditch, we're both seekers, we're both prefects, we both hate Snape, we're both popular, and we both like this song."

            "You like this song?"

            "Yeah.  It reminds me of you, for some reason."  Harry blinked.  The song was a love song, as cheesy as they came.  Draco smiled.  "Sure you don't wanna dance?"  He winked drunkenly, which wound up looking more like a grimace than a wink.

            Harry stared, mouth agape.  No way was Malfoy hitting on him… no way.  Of course, he did have a thing for blonds, and he could always just blame the whole thing on being drunk if it didn't work out… and he was quite drunk, he realized.  Oh, what the hell.  "Actually, Draco, I think I should be getting back to the castle.  There's a potions test tomorrow, you know."  He gave Draco a look, and hoped that he wasn't too drunk to catch on.

            Draco frowned, before an idea popped into his fuzzy head.  "How did you get here?  You didn't walk, did you?"  Harry nodded in assent.  "Well, I flew, and my broom can seat two, if we squeeze…"  He left the question implied, and raised an inquiring eyebrow.  Harry suddenly felt very sober.

            "Er… that sounds… good," he said, cursing himself for saying something so inane. 

            On their way out, Draco slung an arm around Harry's shoulder, and leaned in close to his ear.  "Can I tell you a secret?" he whispered.  Harry just looked at him, with those startling grey eyes just inches away from his own, and nodded.  "You're not so bad, Harry.  In fact, I must say I find you quite attractive, even when I'm sober."  

            Harry blinked, confused, and then closed his eyes altogether when Draco surprised him with a soft, chaste kiss that tasted like butterbeer and apples.  "Do you want to know another secret?  That wasn't really my chair."

*************

Yes, I am the supreme dork.  I'd been writing this, working on and off on it for a few nights, when I stumbled upon a het fic, Hermione/someone, using the same song.  I was annoyed, to say the least, but I wasn't deterred.  This wasn't meant to be a work of staggering genius or anything, just a fun little… thing for me to amuse myself and maybe a few others with.  So, before you flame my bad writing style, bad grammar, bad whatever, remember that it's all just for fun.  I don't agonize over my fluffy fics, just because it ruins the whole writing process for me.  Sorry.  It can't be all *that* bad, can it?  hehe...  Yeah, I know, the whole thing was ripped off, but I couldn't bring myself to change it, because for some sick reason, I love this song.  :o)  

Well, excuse me, but I think you've got my chair.  

No, that one's not taken.  I don't mind if you sit here.  I'll be glad to share.  

Yeah, it's usually packed here on Friday nights.  

Oh, if you don't mind could I talk you out of a lie?  

Well, thank you, could I drink you a buy?  

Oh, listen to me.  What I mean is can I buy you a drink?  Anything you please.  

Oh, you're welcome.  Well, I don't think I caught your name.  

Are you waiting for someone to meet you here?  

Well, that makes two of us.  Glad you came.  

No, I don't know the name of the band but they're good, aren't they?  

Would you like to dance?  

Yeah, I like this song, too.  It reminds me of you and me.  

Baby, do you think there's a chance that later on I could drive you home?  

No, I don't mind at all.  

Oh, I like you too, and to tell you the truth… 

that wasn't my chair after all.  


End file.
